I always like to start January off with my top ten movies (here's 2014) of the previous year. This year is a little belated again because of late wide releases, and more specifically because I wanted to wait until I saw Anomalisa.

As always, these aren't necessarily what I feel are the best movies or what I feel will stand the test of time best...but they were personal favorites for various reasons. Although I initially came off 2015 feeling that it wasn't as spectacular as the year before in terms of movies, after musing over this list for a while I found that there were many I came to love. It was sometimes difficult to figure out which ones I had to eliminate for the list, but I ultimately settled on which movies I was consistently the most excited to share about.

A few movies I missed that might have made the list: Room, The Danish Girl, Son of Saul, Mississippi Grind, Straight Outta Compton

10. Bone Tomahawk

I'm a sucker for westerns and even more for genre mashups done well, like this tale of American settlers hunting down a tribe of cannibal savages. Bone Tomahawk is a horror western with a playful meandering script that is so quirky it flirts with anachronicity. Most of the movie is a slow burn, but it allows us to get to know the four main characters delightfully well. There's Kurt Russell (sporting one of two western movie mustaches from this year) as the intrepid sheriff, Richard Jenkins as his slightly out-of-touch and probably past-his-prime backup deputy, Matthew Fox as a dandified bonafide Indian-killing expert, and a desperate Patrick Wilson struggling to keep up on a broken leg. They're all acted out deftly and confidently, and the movie is a character piece as we learn each of the men's stories.

Bone Tomahawk isn't flawless, admittedly. The cinematography is surprisingly flat for a western, and the opening scene of a man sawing at the throat of another is probably one of mildest on the film's spectrum of violence. But Richard Jenkins steals every scene with his non-sequitur monologues, and the characters are as sympathetically vibrant as they are flawed. Your regard for the characters is worked subtly in, so much so that it almost comes as a surprise at how much you empathize with them by the third act. It's amazing how much emotion a conversation about a flea circus can evoke. Bone Tomahawk creates a huge space with its brutal realism on one end and its highfalutin language at the other, setting the stage for an age-old story of heroes banding together against the forces of evil in the name of honor, damsels, and their gun skills.

9. Me and Earl and the Dying Girl

I really think it's difficult to create a relatable relevant coming of age film without highly contrived teenagers. There have been some notable ones lately (Dope, The Spectacular Now), but Me and Earl and the Dying Girl might be my favorite. Greg (the "Me" acted by Thomas Mann) has forever skated by high school superficially belonging to every social group while staving off intimacy until he's forced into a friendship with Rachel, a classmate diagnosed with cancer. Relatable might sound like a stretch considering that Greg narrates his college personal statement in Werner Herzog's voice and makes movie parodies with his friend like "Sockwork Orange", "Senior Citizen Kane", and "Rosemary's Baby Carrots"...But at the same time, he's the moppy self-deprecating, unwittingly witty friend you always wanted to have. The characters and the script are charming and genuine, filled with both those moments of unplanned for brilliance and those all-too-real adolescent interactions that lack words because we haven't yet learned those adult conventions that shallowly do the work for us.

Perhaps it's appropriate then that Me and Earl is about what goes beyond words. Greg grapples with rejection and mortality at a time when his life is growing beyond his self-imposed limitations. The most heartbreaking moments of Me and Earl are given without words and are only possible because of a mutual trust that the people who have seen the worst of us also know the best parts we weren't even aware we were sharing.

Christian Petzold's neo-noir movie is about Nelly (Nina Hoss) a concentration camp survivor with a surgically reconstructed face searching post-war Germany for her husband who may or may not have betrayed her to the Nazis. Phoenix is incandescently shot while at the same time moodily depicting a torn-up Berlin whose facade is as difficult to piece together as Nelly's face. Part melodrama and part-Vertigo, Phoenix is about how we can be confined by how other people define us and how the biggest betrayal can be our refusal to acknowledge change in the ones we love.

The title can seem a bit heavy-handed, but there are so many beautiful moments of recognition and unfamiliarity that really make this movie what it is. And the building to the end, shot subliminally, is a one-two punch to the gut.

7. Brooklyn

Saoirse Ronan is the epitome of radiance in this tale of an Irish girl, Eilis, who moves to 1950s Brooklyn to make a living away from her family. Brooklyn above all else allows for breathing space, taking time in simplest motions and feelings without forcing a narration or a perspective. The best book adaptations are those that let the medium shine, and director John Crowley wisely lets the visuals speak for themselves. Saoirse Ronan's face is as expressive as a shifting painting so that at any moment a shadow can flit across is as fast as a thought in her character's mind.

There's a scene near the beginning of the film where the camera focuses on Eilis' face as she looks around a room thoughtfully without ever cutting to what it is that she could be looking at. There's another where we see her leave behind Domhnall Gleeson's character in a car while the camera remains on the solid figure of Gleeson without cutting away, allowing us to feel even through a voyeuristic curtain the strength of how he feels for her. There are rarely perfect choices in life, but there are ones that bring us to whom we love.

6. Spotlight

Tom McCarthy's movie about the Boston Globe's uncovering of the Catholic Church abuse scandal could have easily turned into a lurid, turgid piece but instead honored the victims and truth with its down-to-earth presentation. Purposefully drab cinematography and drudging journalistic gruntwork does nothing to dim the brilliance of the ensemble cast. We know the ending to the story, but perhaps have not gone into the motivations and disavowals of shame involved. Set in a pitch-perfect 2000s Boston, Spotlight pinpoints the impact of a Catholic Church scandal in a time and place where faith was so needed.

I loved most of all how it didn't mince details in how much pounding pavement and frustration are involved in the journalistic process. All of the team have some semblance of a life outside of work, but in a way they are more intimate with those they work with. Furthermore, Ruffalo's heartrending monologue about his relationship with his faith may have been one of the best of the year. The cast was phenomenal to the end, with Liev Schreiber as the biggest surprise for me.

Great to see some love for Brooklyn, which I enjoyed so much more deeply than I anticipated. The breathing space, as you describe it, is unique. And your final line in the Me/Earl/Girl paragraph there is beyond great, the sort of sentence I have to let sink in. Thanks for such great analysis! Very intrigued about Phoenix, which I continue to kick myself over missing in theatres!